Stairway to Heaven
by Loralei Fairhill
Summary: (Setting is Tokugawa Japan) Selenity is kidnapped as a young child by assassins who have killed her parents and their son, Endymion. What secrets are being hidden from her? Please R & R!


Stairway to Heaven  
Book 1: "Do all roads lead to nowhere?"  
By: Loralei Fairhill  
Rated: PG-13  
Genre: AR  
  
  
  
  
  
A bloodcurdling scream pierced the still night air, followed   
by several low moans and crashes. The shuffling of almost silent   
feet could be heard climbing out of one of the large bay windows   
and onto the moonlit balcony, dropping to the ground several   
feet below, where the footsteps faded away as the shadow making   
them receded into the anonymity of the darkness.  
  
Soon, there came the sound of a woman's hurried steps running   
swiftly down the slates of the columned hallways to the room where   
the scream came from. A door creaked open of its own accord, and   
the woman glanced in. She gasped loudly.  
  
"Kami-sama, forgive us!" she wailed as she looked upon the   
torn and bloody sheets staining the bed crimson with the lifeblood of   
the two mangled corpses that lay upon it, clinging to each other even   
in death. She looked away, her stomach suddenly in her throat. She   
gulped, trying to force it back down, then called frantically,   
"Help me, somebody!" She fled the room through the open doorway   
and ran down the corridor. She screamed, ineffectually strangled   
with fear, "The child! They're coming for the child! Hide her!"  
  
A small, lithe girl-child with her blond hair tied into   
two wispy buns peaked out from a shadowy alcove on the side of   
the hallway and stared curiously after the frightened woman with   
brilliant blue eyes. Then she ran in the opposite direction, her   
little footfalls so light on the flagstones that they made no   
sound at all. She ran on her slim legs until she reached the arched   
doorway that the screaming woman had previously occupied. She trod   
slowly across the mosaic-tiled floor to the parted brocade   
bed-curtains. She stood on tiptoe to see who was in the high   
feather bed, wondering what could have scared the strange woman   
so. When she saw, she drew back, reeling from shock and fear,   
mumbling, "No . . . mama . . . papa. . . ." She backed slowly   
away until she hit something soft which stood solidly against the   
wall of the room. She took in a quick surprised breath as a warm   
hand covered her mouth and a cold steel blade was pressed against   
her young, quivering neck.  
  
"Not a word . . ." the gravelly voice next to her small,   
delicate ear whispered. "Not one word if you value your life,   
Tsuki-ko. . . ."  
  
The little girl was half-carried, half-dragged back into the   
darkness of the cool evening with the stranger holding the knife   
to her vulnerable throat and his hand on her mouth the whole time.  
  
When they reached the very edge of the balcony, he told her   
to jump and she obeyed him without question. Then he sheathed his   
dagger and followed, swooping her up into his arms as he landed   
and running off with his precious cargo into the misty night.  
  
  
~~~~~~~~~~~~@  
  
  
She awoke to the sound of breakfast being made in their small   
makeshift camp, which consisted of several waterproof tents erected   
around a single fire in the middle. There were four in all, she   
noticed immediately, and she occupied none of them. Where was her   
captor? Then she remembered he didn't have a tent; he had slept out   
under the stars across the fire from her, guarding her against some   
nameless terror, she assumed. But that was not what worried her. It   
was what he told her as he put her into some warm woolen blankets t  
he night before that frightened her the most.   
  
  
"I don't want to have to hurt you, so please just follow my   
instructions, Tsuki-ko. I know it's going to be hard for you at   
first, since your parents were killed, but just listen to what I   
have to say."   
  
She turned her head away from his piercing blue gaze and   
folded her arms across her flat chest. Insolently, she said, "I am   
the Princess. Why should I listen to you who have killed my parents?"   
  
It was a good question, and he had no real answer for it,   
except, "My parents are the assassins who did it, not me, and I   
obey them. They tell me only that it was necessary, as it will be   
necessary for you to remember nothing of your life before you met   
me."  
  
"And how do you propose to do that?" she asked, eyeing him   
squarely and setting her chin stubbornly. He shrugged, brushed back   
an errant strand of jet-black hair, and moved away to his own pallet   
on the other side of the smoky fire. She pulled the warm covers   
closer about her shoulders, wondering at the meaning of his   
prediction, but only briefly, for she was cold and had on only her   
thin white shift; in her curiosity about the screaming woman, she   
had not even taken the time to put on her robe. Slowly, she drifted   
off into a fitful slumber full of ghostly apparitions of her deceased   
parents, and screams, and the running of feet.  
  
  
The next morning brought more perspective to the little girl   
of her captor as he crouched, concentrating on cooking in a black   
iron pan over the glowing coals. He was just a boy, barely four   
winters older than her ten, with deep cerulean eyes and black,   
straight hair. She looked at him warily, then sat up and pushed   
the covers back slightly, yawning and stretching her arms skyward   
as she did so. Then she saw him looking at her intently as he placed   
another piece of battered bread into the frying pan. She glared at   
him in response, and he turned his attention back to cooking.   
  
"I see you're up bright and early," he said, sauntering over   
and handing her a plate full of various fruits and a large, fried   
and egg-soaked piece of bread sprinkled with freshly gathered herbs.  
  
She took one look at it, then set it down beside her and defied,   
"I don't want it."  
  
He raised an eyebrow. "Fine. You'll wish you ate it later,   
after we strike camp and travel on." He put some of the same variety   
of food onto his own plate and doused the fire and cook-pan with water.   
It steamed and sizzled as the cool liquid put out the hot flames.   
Then he lifted a small flagon of wine to his lips and drank thirstily.   
He placed it on the ground beside to him and corked it.   
  
"I can't understand you," she said. "Why did you take me here?   
I want to go home!" A tears dropped easily from her glassy eyes down   
her cheeks. "I want my parents back," she whispered slowly. "What did   
I do to deserve this from you?"  
  
He looked at her sadly, his eyes turning to a tumultuous gray-blue,   
seeming as though he wanted to hold and comfort her and wipe away her   
tears, but restrained himself for an unknown reason.   
  
"I didn't choose your fate, Tsuki-ko. Don't blame me, please,   
blame the ones who sent for you."  
  
Her eyes widened in surprise. "Who sent for me? Why? What do   
they want? I want to go home!" she wailed.   
  
This time he did take her into his arms, did wipe away her   
tears. He pulled her into his lap and rocked back and forth, stroking   
her hair with a tender hand. He started whispering some words in   
another language, which turned into a kind of crooning lullaby.   
The girl's eyes started to close as she was lulled to sleep by the   
lilting sound of his voice. Loud and soft, high and low, the echoes   
of the music sounding in her ears helped her drop off into a dreamless   
slumber. The boy continued to sing as he carefully picked her up and   
set her back down on the blankets, pulling one of them over her   
small body and tucking it under her chin.  
  
". . . and when you wake, you shall find you remember nothing   
but us, Tsuki-ko," he said as he pushed back a wisp of her hair   
from her smooth, pale forehead with a careful hand. "And I know   
you'll be happy with the life we will give you. But when we reach   
your new parents, I'm not so sure I'll want to give you up." He   
sighed, then turned around, only to be faced with his father. His   
very angry father.  
  
The boy looked up into a furious face with eyebrows knitted   
together in ire and a mouth set in stone. It was a look he had come   
to know well. It meant trouble for him, especially because it   
foretold a sound beating and a long lecture afterwards. The boy's   
father dragged him away from the girl's sleeping body by the elbow,   
wrenching him to his feet abruptly and almost throwing him down on   
the pile of logs stacked a few feet away.  
  
"What are you trying to do? Blow our cover?" he asked fiercely.   
Then he walked over to the boy and cuffed him soundly on the head.   
The boy remained unmovingly silent, his ocean-colored eyes slitted.   
"Well? Speak up, Musuko!"  
  
"No, Oto-san, I wasn't. I just . . . I just . . . I didn't want   
her to feel pain." His answer rewarded him with another blow from his   
father, and he squeezed his eyes shut against the pain momentarily.  
  
"You 'didn't want her to feel pain?'" he mocked. "Oh, how sweet.   
Pray, tell me, Musuko," he sneered, "what's next? Saving damsels in   
distress?" He made a rude sound in his throat and spit on the mossy   
ground near the boy, who stared at the spot a long while before answering.  
  
"No . . ." he started. "I wanted to--"   
  
His father jerked him up by the collar of his shirt with a sinewy   
hand and held him up to his twisted malignant face. The boy's feet   
dangled uselessly in midair.   
  
"We're assassins, if you didn't notice. We're not nice, and we   
don't help people. We take jobs from the highest bidder, and we do   
what's asked of us, no more. See to it that you remember that, Musuko."  
  
"Yes," the boy answered submissively. His father dropped him   
suddenly, and he fell in a heap of limbs on the damp forest floor.  
  
"We'll make a man of you yet," his father said, then turned   
and walked away to another part of the camp. When he was out of sight,   
the boy cursed quietly after him, and looked at the girl. She lay on   
her side, clutching the blanket close to her flat chest. Her breath   
came in and out slowly as she slept through her partly open mouth.   
  
Angel . . . he thought suddenly. She had shown him that there   
was something worth wanting to have for his own besides a day free   
from beatings. She reminded him why he wished his parents were dead,   
or worse. She made him wish he were a better person, that he could   
have the courage to say just once that he wouldn't participate in his   
parents' wrongdoings. He wanted to help her, to set her free. But,   
alas, he couldn't. He could only take the destiny that the fates   
had wrought for him, or so he thought.  
  
  
~~~~~~~~~~~~@  
  
  
It was nightfall, with a sprinkling of stars in the dusky sky.   
The boy's father was forcing him to wake the girl, a task he greatly   
abhorred. Why couldn't he just leave her be? he wondered. She's gone   
through so much. . . . But then he reminded himself that she would   
remember none of her previous life, and one day soon she would not   
even remember him, so it was useless to even try.  
  
He tiptoed softly over to her pallet and shook her sleeping form   
lightly. He kissed her cheek tenderly, whispering in her ear, "Rise   
and shine, Tsuki-ko. We're going now."   
  
She mumbled something about Tengoku, and an angel in her dream,   
and finding Chiba Mamoru. Then she turned over and went back to sleep,   
her clasped hands pillowing her soft cheek. He recoiled at the sound   
of the name he had planned to use once he left his parents behind.   
How could she have known? He hadn't told her a thing . . . not about   
his search for Tengoku, or the angel. . . . How could she have known?   
But she didn't know, he reasoned. It was just a fancy of her sleeping   
imagination, something to be forgotten once she awoke. His fears put   
to rest, he sat down on the displaced blanket beside her curled form   
and shook her again.  
  
"Tsuki-ko, we have to leave. My father doesn't like to   
wait. . . ."   
  
She did not respond. He sighed heavily, then bent over her and   
gingerly drew the blankets back. She shivered in her sleep and curled   
up tighter, her arms tearing at her shift in effort to get warm. He   
motioned for a stooped woman hiding behind a tree near the edge of   
camp to come forward. She warily made her way towards him, stopping   
ever so often and looking around shyly.  
  
"Okaa-san, would you roll up these blankets, please, after I   
take her off of them?"   
  
She nodded in response, then turned her head to the ground, her   
eyes downcast. "Where's your Oto-san?" she asked in a hushed tone.  
  
"Up with the horses. Come," he motioned her closer, "I need you   
to help me with this right now."  
  
As the woman stepped closer to the small girl and the boy   
kneeling next to her, the moonlight revealed that her left arm dangled   
uselessly at her side and her face was bruised. She would have been   
very beautiful indeed if her face were not so scarred (from the   
countless beatings the boy's father had given her) and if her hair   
had not prematurely streaked itself with silver. The boy looked up   
at her, his midnight eyes expressionless.  
  
"What did you do wrong this time, Okaa-san?" he asked ruefully.   
  
"I don't know." She stood up straighter and brushed her hair   
back with her good hand as if it were its true glossy raven color,   
long and thick, as it must have been long before the boy was born.   
"I think he did the job too messily, and I told him so. I only said   
it because it was true. He shouldn't have murdered them so brutally.   
And he could have hurt the child. You know how he gets in those   
bloody rages."  
  
The boy nodded sagely, then looked at the girl. Thank Kami-sama   
he didn't touch her, he thought.Then he scooped her up carefully into   
his arms, resting her head against his chest.   
  
"Thank Kami-sama . . ." he murmured. His mother picked up the   
pile of blankets and began to fold them up. Then, suddenly thinking   
better of her work, she took one of the smaller blankets, a dark   
and light blue weave of lambs wool, and draped it over the sleeping   
child in the boy's arms.  
  
"So she doesn't catch a chill . . ." his mother whispered to   
him, careful not to wake the girl nestled in his arms. At the touch   
of the blanket, the girl pulled it closer about her shoulders and   
nuzzled into the boy's chest lovingly, whispering "Mamoru-onii-chan"   
over and over. The boy sighed and hoped his mother had not heard   
the girl. If she had, she would be furious, and he would most likely   
be beaten again. Such was his life and so he had accepted it until   
he met (or rather kidnapped) the girl. Looking down at her peaceful   
face was the only incentive he needed to desert the assassin's   
encampment and take the long road to wherever the wind blew. Yes,   
he thought, that's what I'm going to do as soon as this girl is   
gone from me. I'll not be made to play the fool for my parents'   
folly any longer.  
  
He strode off into the glade to where his father and the   
horses lay waiting. His mother followed with a light moccasinned   
tread, weaving in and out of the pools of moonlight with the   
blankets she carried piled high in her arms. The boy nodded to his   
father, who took the girl from his arms momentarily while he climbed   
aboard. She squirmed in her sleep, protesting the exchange, feeling   
the boy's father's rough arms uncomfortable and cold compared to   
the boy's soft warmth. But soon she was hoisted on the mount after   
him, where he supported her by the waist, and she snuggled back into   
the protective circle of his arms. He sighed once more. It was going   
to be very hard to give the girl up to the Shogun's family, he   
thought again.   
  
  
~~~~~~~~~~~~@   
  
  
"Faster, faster!" the boy urged his chestnut stallion as the   
girl riding pillion behind him shrieked with laughter. The horse   
galloped along the muddy track at breakneck speed to the new campsite   
on the far side of the heavily forested gorge.   
  
They were only a day's ride away from the Shogun's palace,   
and the boy wanted to enjoy his brief time left with the girl, since   
she would be leaving to live her new life soon, a life which would not,   
and never could, concern him. So he took her riding, something he knew   
she loved beyond all other things. His passion for pleasing her was   
endless as evidenced by the countless ways he found to make her happy   
while he still could; he picked flowers for her in the meadows, he   
helped her make a dress for herself out of the lamb's wool blanket   
he had carried her in the first night they moved, he cooked for her   
the dishes that she said she liked best. His father and mother were   
very condescending the whole time, telling him that he was wasting   
his valuable energies on a waif he probably wouldn't even remember   
after she had gone. He said nothing to their jeers and rakish   
comments, only sighed and reminded himself that as soon as the girl   
was taken care of, he would no longer have to concern himself with   
their imbecility.   
  
Another of the girl's shrieks brought him back from his somber   
thoughts. He couldn't see her because she was behind him, holding   
on tightly with her slim arms round his waist, but he knew she was   
having fun due to the happy sounds coming from her mouth as he   
raced the horse down the track to the campsite.   
  
As they closed in to it, he slowed the horse to a leisurely   
trot and she said to him, "Thank you so much for the ride,   
Onii-chan. I know it's not very easy for you to get away from your   
Oto-san to play with me . . . I hope I'm not being a burden. . . ."   
  
He sighed heavily, then answered, "No, Tsuki-ko. You're no   
burden, and no trouble at all. Stop thinking like that. You know I   
love riding as much as you do, and that's why I do it. That and the   
fact that it makes you so very happy." As he spoke, he couldn't see   
her smile dazzling the sunlit forest round them, but he could feel   
her arms tighten momentarily about his waist in response to his   
kind words.  
  
He trotted the roan horse into the shadow of a small copse   
of trees just outside the clearing hiding their encampment and   
swung down off the horse. The boy landed with a small thud, then   
turned and reached his arms out to help the girl down. She blushed   
slightly at the gesture and jumped into his embrace. She landed   
in his arms, almost knocking him down with the force of her fall,   
and he laughed outright.  
  
"I do believe that you've done this one too many times!" he   
said joyously as he held her close.  
  
"Oh, no, I haven't done it enough!" she replied, then hugged   
him closer and whispered softly in his hear, "I had so much fun   
today . . . but . . ."  
  
"But what?" he whispered back. He could feel her hesitating   
with her answer, as if struggling with a decision.  
  
"I . . . I overheard your father talking. He . . . he said I   
am to be the adopted daughter of the Shogun."  
  
The boy sighed heavily and, with great regret, pulled himself   
away from her arms. "Please . . . let's just enjoy ourselves while   
we can. . . . I don't want to think about you leaving me." His   
expressive eyes darkened to a midnight blue with grief. The girl   
took his hands in hers and looked earnestly into his face with her   
sky colored eyes.  
  
"Shh . . . don't . . . I understand." They continued looking   
at each other. Long moments passed.  
  
She's so brave, he thought. She's lost everything, and yet   
she's willing to move on. But, he reminded himself, that was partly   
my doing. Perhaps I should never have--  
  
"How long do I have?" she asked in a quiet voice, interrupting   
his thoughts.  
  
"A day. Maybe less," he said forlornly. He looked away, unable   
to face what he thought would be her utter devastation. Tears   
threatened to drip down his tanned cheek. She smiled softly.  
  
"Don't cry. It will all come out right in the end, you'll see."   
He looked at her, surprised to find that she had a kind of determined   
air about her. He was awed at her strength. "And I'll find you again.   
No matter where you are. Yakusoku shimasu."  
  
"Y-yakusoku . . . shimasu," he echoed. Then she laughed, the   
sprightly sound filling the glade with sunshine.   
  
"Don't be so gloomy! We do have a day, and I intend to make   
the most of it!" She laughed again, and this time he joined her,   
the mellow sound of his voice mingling with hers though the trees.   
"Now come on! We've still got a few hours until dark. . . ." She   
took hold of his hand and dragged him off into the shifting sunlight   
of the woods.   
  
Through their happiness, they neglected to see the unmistakable   
figure of the boy's father following them. The boy and the girl's   
joy together would be short lived indeed.   
  
  
~~~~~~~~~~~~@  
  
  
Creeping slowly on all fours after the two laughing children,   
a lurking shadow in the bushes watched the happiness between them   
with envy and scorn.  
  
"What is my ungrateful son doing with that moon-brat?" he   
muttered angrily. "They shouldn't be together. She'll poison him   
with her high and mighty ways . . . I must put an end to this," he   
resolved, the stood up slowly and brushed himself off. He ran a   
wiry hand through his tousled sandy hair to rid it of clinging   
autumn leaves and sticks and glared in the direction of his son   
and the Shogun's soon-to-be-daughter.  
  
  
"Now come on, Onii-chan," she said, dragging him roughly by   
the wrist through the forested path. "I want to play hide and seek!"   
  
The girl laughed as she dragged him closer to the green cover   
of the woods. He shook his head slowly and his straight ebony hair   
shifted from side to side on his head. He forced a wide smile in   
her direction, then wrenched free of her grasp. He ran backwards   
on light, bare feet, aware that she was debating whether to follow   
him or not.   
  
"I have a better idea, Tsuki-ko!" he exclaimed. "Let's play   
tag!" he said, then ran off into the woods, his ringing laughter   
mocking her as she stood in place, watching him go.  
  
"I'm going to get you, Onii-chan! Just you wait!" she yelled   
as she sprinted on her strong legs after him. She was only a few feet   
into the trees when she tripped over a protruding root and went down   
face first into a mud puddle. The murky brown water splashed all over   
her clothes and soaked her hair with filthy liquid and large pieces   
of dirt.  
  
"Itai!" she screamed as she felt something pull her to her feet   
before her mind could even register that she had fallen. She squeezed   
her eyes shut as tightly as she could against the dripping water and   
yelled, "Onii-chan!"   
  
A voice near her ear answered, "Yes, my lovely Tsuki-ko?" as   
gentle hands turned her around and wiped her face off.   
  
She tentatively opened one eye a slit and looked at her   
assailant. "Don't scare me like that, Onii-chan!" she berated.   
  
  
The man, now standing straight as an arrow at ready (and just   
as explosive) against a tree to the children's far left, chose this   
time to interrupt them and attempt to take his son away.  
  
"Musuko!" he called, as he made himself known. He walked   
heavily over to the two, looking down with an angry glint in his   
deep blue eyes. "Why don't you come when I call you?" he asked   
maliciously.  
  
The boy looked at the ground and pushed a golden leaf around   
in the wet dirt with his foot. "I'm sorry, Oto-san. I didn't hear   
you--"  
  
"That's because you were out playing with this child!" He   
gestured to the girl with a muscled arm. "And you know you're not   
even fit to lick her shoes, boy!" he screamed. The girl took a   
small, timid step back from the boy's father, fear making her azure   
eyes go wide. She bit her tongue. This was a man to be reckoned with.   
  
The boy blindly reached for the girl's hand and clasped it   
tightly within his own. She looked him in the eyes steadily, trying   
to convey some reassurance that she would always be there for him,   
no matter what his idiot father did. He saw the sincerity shining   
in her perfect blue eyes and knew that it was time for him to break   
out of the endless cycle of fear he had lived in since birth.  
  
"No, I'm not, oto-san," he answered quietly. "But I am fit to   
be her Onii-chan!"   
  
His father growled at the boy's unexpected remark. "Don't you   
mock me, Musuko!" he said through clenched teeth as he prepared to   
hit his son.  
  
"I'll do anything I please!" the boy said, finally standing   
up for himself. "You know something . . . I've always wanted to   
say this. I wish you weren't my Oto-san, you scheming, destructive   
man! You're everything I've ever hated, and I won't take this   
abuse from you anymore! Do you hear me?" he finished.  
  
"Yes, I hear you. The question is, have you been listening   
to me?" his father asked. He took a forceful step closer to the boy   
and the girl. "Well, if you haven't, let me tell you something,   
Musuko. I run things around here. And if I say you aren't fit, then   
you aren't fit. Do you understand?" he bit out harshly. He seemed   
ready to just take them back to the camp site and leave if the boy   
would acknowledge his superiority. The boy didn't and it was then that   
he happened to glance down and see the couple's hands irrevocably   
intertwined, as if some twist of fate, some unchangeable destiny,   
would keep them together no matter what he did. His anger knew no   
limits as he reached out and yanked them apart, throwing them both   
off-balance from the force of the separation. His face twisted   
suddenly as a devious thought occurred to him. "But you don't   
understand, do you, Musuko?" he said in a evil voice. The boy's   
eyes widened as he tried to fathom his father's thoughts. He knew   
something was about to happen, something completely unstoppable   
and final. "Do you?"  
  
The boy did not answer. Whether it was because he was rendered   
speechless with the feeling of doom, or otherwise, it was apparent   
that he was not going to favor his father's question with a reply.   
The girl, silent the whole time, spoke instead. "I understand," she   
answered the boy's father.  
  
He turned angrily on her, smacking her hard across the cheek   
with his left hand. "I didn't ask you!" he snarled, angry that she   
seemed to be mocking him and that she supported the boy in his   
decision to be insubordinate. The girl put a hand up to her cheek   
and held it against the red mark that had started to swell there   
from the force of his furious blow.  
  
The boy struck out immediately against his father at the sight   
of violence against the girl. "You promised never to hurt her!" the   
boy screamed as he ineffectually beat his fists against his father's   
muscular chest and arms. The man picked him up as if he were   
nothing more than a toothpick, and just as insignificant, and flung   
him down as hard as he could onto the ground, where he hit his head   
on a rough, jagged stone that lay at the base of a knarled tree. A   
thin line of blood trickled down the back of his head and through   
his hair; it made a startling contrast of brilliant crimson against   
dark coal black.   
  
The girl gasped as she saw him fall and went to lay herself   
beside his motionless body, screaming in agony, for after the boy   
had erased her memories, they had forged a bond so strong that she   
could feel part of his pain. She had barely even knelt down on the   
mat of dead leaves covering the forest floor when the man, uncaring,   
wrenched her away before she could touch his son and hoisted her   
over his shoulder.  
  
"Where are you taking me?" she demanded. "Put me down!" Her   
small clenched fists rained light blows against his broad back as   
he carried her away in the direction of their camp. "You can't mean   
to leave him there!" she protested as she saw that the boy was being   
left behind.   
  
"Oh, I can, and I will. He's a worthless bastard to me   
now," he said.   
  
The girl continued to squirm in his firm grasp as her   
anguished screams of, "Onii-chan!" echoed through the summer   
woods.  
  
Alas, the unconscious boy could not heed her calls for he   
still lay on the pine-needle-covered forest floor, alone and left   
to the ravenous wolves that would come with the night.  
  
  
~~~~~~~~~~~~@   
  
  
It was the final twist of the knife for the girl. She no   
longer had anything to hope for with her beloved "Onii-chan" gone.   
He had been her pillar of strength against the nameless void that   
ate away at the edge of her consciousness; even though all her true   
memories of her parents and their deaths had gone, seemingly only   
wispy mirages and glimmers of darkness to her now, she remembered   
a certain fear from that time which the boy had dispelled with his   
presence. Now the dreams descended in strong stormy clouds, creating   
for her a life that was nothing more than an extension of her most   
terrifying nightmare: to be completely alone.   
  
The boy's father and mother were incessant with their chatter   
of the joys of being a Shogun's daughter, now being completely open   
with the secret that they had previously kept from her since the   
boy's supposed untimely demise. She tried her best to ignore them   
in a way that would not anger the man greatly, because more often   
than not, he would go into one of his rages and beat the woman, a   
habit that frightened the girl to no end. Fortunately, she had   
found a small solace in her world of utter torment: a secret hiding   
place for herself away from the campsite, where she was free to   
et out her frustrations away from prying eyes until what she called   
the "akumu" was over. It was a hollowed out hazel tree centered in   
a ring of oaks that provided the protection she needed. Whether it   
was the fact that the smell of the wood somehow reminded her of   
the boy, or just that she was away from the angry voices for once,   
the grove saved her sanity from the point of no return that she   
had been fast approaching.   
  
Finally, the last day of her prolonged torture with the man   
and woman was over. As their horses approached the towering palace   
that lay just on the colorful horizon, the girl finally realized   
that she had a new life to begin. She understood why the boy had   
tried to please her so often and so much. She was truly going away   
to be something she didn't comprehend and didn't want to; however,   
it was pointless to even try to avoid what seemed like an inevitable   
destiny to her.   
  
So she allowed herself to be dressed in a colorful traditional   
gown that flowed about her slim form and made graceful her slightly   
awkward body. She let the boy's mother brush and dress her hair with   
red ribbons and tie it into two knots, one on each side of her head,   
as her own mother used to, though she did not remember. And she   
forced herself to be silent all through the exchange: the cold   
farewells from the boy's family as they left on horseback with   
their money to ruin another person's life and the warm welcoming   
smiles from the Shogun and his wife as they gazed upon their adopted   
daughter for the first time.   
  
Really, my life won't be so bad, she told herself as her new   
parents lead her into their palace and up to the room that had been   
furnished for her. I'll forget him. Truly, I know I shall.   
  
And she tried. Kami-sama knows she tried. But through it all,   
a part of her refused to let him go. No matter if she were riding   
horseback on her brand new mount, or eating a lavish supper with her   
adopted parents, his memory haunted her. She could not keep from   
feeling that it was her fault he stood up to his father and took that   
almost deadly blow to the head. And so her pure heart began to wither   
away with guilt. As the weeks went by, all she could do was cry herself   
to sleep at night, staring longingly at the moon, and walk as if a   
ghost during the day, ever watchful of the shadowy dark green rim of   
forest that lay just beyond the palace grounds.  
  
The Shogun and his wife tried their best to please her, but   
to no avail. It seemed as though she had become a completely different   
child than the one who had started out liking both them and their   
home. She remained in her room most of the time, and if she was not   
there, she was in the rose garden, her melancholy filling the place   
and spurring the roses' growth towards the heavens. They looked upon   
her as if she was an invalid, for a time, and after, when she did not   
respond to them at all, they left her to her own devices, thinking her   
partly mad from the separation with her birth parents. How wrong they   
were. She was but waiting for the boy to rescue her.   
  
Once or twice, she thought that she heard him laughing, and   
turned joyously round, only to find that it was nothing but the   
wind rustling the autumn leaves, playing foolish tricks on her   
mind. Afterwards, she ended up crying herself to sleep wherever   
she was. Her new mother happened upon her one day when she had   
succumbed to her grief, and the girl was almost forced to explain   
her actions. . . .  
  
  
The Shogun's wife strolled leisurely through the summer gardens.   
The day was quite pleasant, with a few cumulus clouds in the azure sky   
and a sun that shone bright like an iridescent golden jewel set in the   
midst of a million tiny blue and white sapphires.   
  
She swept up her flowing embroidered kimono to keep it from   
dirtying on the flagstones of the lush gardens. Her attending   
women followed close behind her, laughing and chattering amongst   
themselves and admiring the colorful foliage surrounding them.   
They stopped their walk to rest in an ornate wooden pavilion set   
up near the rose gardens that the girl often frequented.   
  
The Shogun's wife stepped gingerly on the stairs, careful not   
to catch her slippered feet in the wide boards of the gazebo. The   
women's talk grew quiet as she raised one delicate white hand to   
silence them. She approached the benches warily, sensing that they   
were not alone in the pavilion. She pushed back her long, freely   
cascading blue hair with an impatient hand as it fell forward in   
her face, hiding the sleeping form of the girl from view. Just as   
she cleared the mass of shining blue locks away from her forehead,   
the girl stirred and unintentionally made herself noticed.  
  
Carefully, so as not to wake the girl, the Shogun's wife   
moved closer. She watched benevolently as her adopted daughter   
curled up tighter in her sleep, trying to guard herself against   
her nightmares. At one point, it seemed as though she would cry   
out in fear and wake herself, but she bit her lip hard to stifle   
her own screams. The Shogun's wife, watching, began to understand   
why the girl was always so cut off, so detached from life, as she   
saw the girl's mouth move, making silent words that drifted on   
the errant breeze like tzaddik's‡ fervent prayers towards the   
heavens.  
  
The other women started to fear the girl as they watched her,   
whispering to each other about how she slept so fitfully that she   
must be possessed. Her adopted mother, however, forced them to   
cease their slanderous gossip by glaring at them, then went over   
to the girl's sleeping form. She shook her gently, calling out the   
name that she had given her, Tsukino Usagi, because the day she   
had come there was a full moon, and she had seen the girl watching   
it intently, as if she truly expected the woman and the rabbit   
who lived on it to come and keep her company.   
  
The girl started to twitch and kick violently, her dreams   
seeming to have gotten the best of her despite all her efforts. She   
screamed and somehow launched herself off the bench and onto the   
hard wooden floor at the Shogun's wife's feet. She started awake   
immediately and looked up, only to see the curious brown eyes of   
her adopted mother staring back at her.  
  
"I-I-I am v-very sorry, Ikuko-mama. I-I didn't realize you   
had come with your women. . . . I'll just . . . leave you now . . ."   
she stuttered, trying to get herself out of a potentially very   
awkward situation.  
  
The Shogun's wife simply smiled at her blankly as she picked   
herself up and drew her plain black silk kimono closer about her   
shoulders. She started to walk hurriedly out of the gazebo when   
her adopted mother called, "Where do you think you're going,   
Usagi-chan?"  
  
The girl winced at the use of her new name. She didn't like   
it at all; to her, it seemed all wrong. "I thought you had given me   
leave to go where I wished. . . ."  
  
"After we sit and talk a while, Musume." She sat down   
gracefully and arranged her beautiful kimono artfully about her.   
Then she patted a cushion on the bench opposite her own. The girl   
sighed.  
  
"As you wish, Ikuko-mama," she said as she tread lightly over   
and sat down on the proffered seat.  
  
"What do you dream of, Usagi-chan?" her adopted mother asked   
bluntly without introduction, wanting to know the matter that   
troubled her daughter so.  
  
"N-nothing . . ." the girl answered. "I dream of-of nothing."   
She turned her head away and tried to ponder what the exact shade   
of white the daylilies blooming next to the bench would be called.  
  
"Shinji nai, Usagi-chan. I don't believe you. Please, tell me   
what bothers you so that you cannot even sleep without thinking upon   
it." She took the girl's hands gently within her own and looked   
earnestly into her face. "I really and truly only want to help you,"   
she reassured.  
  
The girl glanced back at the woman in front of her. "I cannot   
tell you. I could never tell you." The woman opened her mouth to   
speak and protest the girl's answer, but closed it before any sound   
could escape. "Don't ask me again, please," she said, then stood up   
and bowed respectfully to her adopted mother, "for I will not let   
the secret escape me." She turned on the heel of her slippered foot   
and scurried out of the pavilion. The Shogun's wife stared after   
her, annoyed at their exchange, but more than ever afraid for her   
charge that whatever it was she kept inside would kill her in the   
end.   
  
  
Two seasons passed, the snow fell and the spring came, and   
still she waited for the boy to come. And she waited. But he never   
came, until one night, when the moon was full to a golden glow and   
the stars shone as bright as bright could be in the winter   
sky. . . .  
  
  
The girl sat up suddenly in her big canopied bed and pushed   
back the white silk sheets. She jumped off the high cherry-wood   
bed in one swoop and landed on the floor in a heap of long   
silver-blond hair and creamy dressing gown. She quickly picked   
herself up and walked stealthily over to the glass doors leading   
out onto a marble balcony. It was then that she heard the singing;   
a sweet, mellow sound, almost like the whispering wind came from   
outside. It sang a song that she understood, yet knew not how, for   
it was in such a different language from her own.  
  
  
"Ahnyim tsimeerot visheereem ehiehrog,   
key ailehcha nafshee taahrog."*  
  
  
Caught up in the spell of the magical words, she froze in   
place, feeling them caress her lovingly. Onii-chan . . . ? she   
wondered silently. Onii-chan is that you?   
  
  
"Nafshee chamdah bitsayl yadehcha,   
ladaat kal-rahn sodehcha."**  
  
  
She placed her hands carefully on the brass knobs that held   
the glass doors in place and flung them open.   
  
  
"Mihday dahbree bichvodecha homeh lihbee   
ehl dodaycha."***  
  
  
The delicately woven gossamer curtains flew back into her   
room with the cool night wind, and the breeze blew her dress and   
hair behind her like a shimmering silver cape. Silhouetted against   
the luminous moon was the boy: grown tall and strong after all the   
months and singing for her alone.  
  
  
"Ahl cain ahdabayr bihcha nihchbahdot,   
vihshihmcha ahchabayd bihsheeray yihdeedot."****   
  
  
He finished the haunting melody. She could only stare in awe;   
the boy appeared to be just an ethereal spectre in the   
moonlight. He moved slowly towards her with tentative steps. He   
was unsure that she would even remember him after all the time   
that had passed.   
  
"Tsuki-ko?" he asked hesitantly. "Is that you?" As he gazed   
upon her wan form, he was unsure if he had come to the right place.  
  
"Yes," she answered him steadily. "It's me, Onii-chan." With   
that, she ran towards him and flung herself into his arms. Her thin   
hands snaked around his neck and held him tightly. "I missed you   
so much . . . ! When I saw you lying on the ground and he dragged   
me away, I--" she started.  
  
"No more words, Tsuki-ko. That time is dead," he stopped her.   
"Please . . . you must forget me," he said, trying to take the emotion   
out of his voice. The effort was killing him inside. All he wanted to   
do was reassure her, make everything all right. He had been away so   
long, and to be with her once more gave him the greatest joy, and   
yet also the most infinite sorrow, knowing that it could never last.  
  
"What?" she asked, greatly confused. "Why?"  
  
"Because I am going away. . . ." He buried his face into her   
shoulder to hide his tears. "And because . . . you must . . . to be   
truly happy. . . ." He pulled her closer and breathed in the sweet   
scent of her cascading hair. Always lavender and lilac . . . he   
thought. She always smelled of a mixture of lavender and lilac. I   
must remember that, he urged himself.   
  
"And what if I refuse?" she said haughtily. "You can't just   
come here and say that to me!" she whispered fiercely. "Not . . .   
not . . . not when I've waited so . . . so long for this   
moment. . . ."   
  
"You can't mean that," he said, disbelieving, as he detached   
himself from her small, warm body. "Y-you . . ." he stuttered.  
  
"I do," she said firmly. "I do mean that, in every way."   
She took a deep breath and steadied herself. "I know you don't want   
to see what I've become . . . how thin I've grown . . . and know   
that it was your doing. . . ." She turned away, and tipped her   
face to the glowing orb hanging low in the midsummer sky.   
  
He could clearly see the outline of her emaciated body through   
the thin cotton of her night dress, and her eyes, once a glistening   
blue and full of life, shone dull with deep black rings around them   
accentuated by the darkness. She is too, too thin . . . he thought.   
He turned also, unable to bear it anymore, staring at the   
constellation Cassiopeia, her wide W sideways in the starry expanse   
of night. "Yes. You know me too well. It's true that I didn't.   
Forgive me." He looked at her with wide eyes, blue and stormy,   
begging for her favor. He took her hands tenderly within his own,   
remembering the last time that they touched like that, when his   
father had almost killed him. She looked down, unwilling to meet   
his gaze for she knew it would be her undoing. Just a glance and   
he could melt her resolve like the hot sun on cold winter snows.  
  
"Why have you come if you must go away again?" she asked, the   
pain evident in her face as she stared at their joined hands.  
  
He paused for a long moment, then answered in an almost inaudible   
whisper, "I had to come. I had to see you. I couldn't bear my life   
without you." He dropped her hands and slowly lifted her chin so he   
could see her eyes and know that she reciprocated what he had just   
confessed. Deep within him, he knew that if he didn't leave at that   
moment, he could never come back, never stay the same person and   
remain sane. It was the point of no return, and he was about to   
cross the line. His fingers drew tender lines down her thin, bony   
cheeks. She tried to turn her face away, but he held her head   
firmly in place, willing the moment never to end. Tears started to   
run down her cheeks, and he tenderly brushed them away with his   
thumbs. "Don't weep for me, Tsuki-ko," he said, his voice cracking   
in heart-wrenching pain, "don't . . . don't. . . ."  
  
She licked her parched lips, then whispered to him, "Promise   
me you won't forget. I know . . . I know. . . ." Her tears ran harder   
down her face and her body was wracked with the sobs she had tried   
to hold back for so long. "I know I must . . . somehow. . . ."  
  
"Shh . . . Tsuki-ko. You . . . you. . . ." He couldn't finish   
his thought. The pain inside him was too great, and he knew that   
he had to leave her then and there, so he held her close and   
whispered, "Yakusoku shimasu," quietly into her ear, then bounded   
away from her and into the misty false-dawn darkness.  
  
The girl reached after him, knowing that it would be the last   
time she ever saw him, and repeated slowly to herself, "Yakusoku   
shimasu." Then she hugged her thin night shift around her and walked   
dejectedly back inside her room, silently closing the balcony doors   
behind her.   
  
  
It truly was the last time she ever saw him, for in the morning,   
she did not even remember that he had been there. The happiness that   
she had never known before, and forgot she had ever missed, grew as   
abundant as the white daisies and red poppies in the fields surrounding   
the palace. The girl was content with her home, and she no longer   
moped about waiting for the boy, for his image was so dim in her   
memory that his absence could not even register in her mind.  
  
The Shogun and his wife rejoiced at their adopted daughter's   
recovery. They resumed their pampering of her and tried to be the   
best parents they could. And the girl loved them for it, truly   
she did. Only when the moon was full did she sometimes start awake   
at midnight and stare at the stars until dawn's first light, trying   
to recall something she seemed to have forgotten, something she knew   
had been very important to her.   
  
And so the days passed, the years went by, and the girl, now   
named Usagi, grew up into a fine young woman, graceful and   
knowledgeable in academics as well as folklore. She never once   
wondered why she sometimes dreamt of a boy with midnight hair and   
deep blue eyes taking her hands and whispering that he promised   
always to remember her, until one day when her adopted mother said,   
"Yakusoku shimasu," to her.  
  
It was then that the dreams really started, and her happy life   
came to an end, like so many perfect things must eventually.   
  
  
  
  
  
  
Translations, both Japanese (directly below) and   
Hebrew (right after the Japanese; each line of the   
song has a certain number of asterisks next to it   
so you can match them up easier):  
  
Onii (-san) (-chan) = older brother  
Baka= stupid/idiot/fool  
Oto (-san)= father  
Okaa (-san)= mother  
Musuko= son  
Musume= daughter  
Tsuki-ko= moon-child  
Tengoku= heaven  
Yakusoku shimasu= I promise (sincerely)  
Akumu= bad dream/nightmare  
Itai= ouch/that hurts  
  
  
‡ Tzaddik: a Yiddish word roughly meaning righteous  
man or person literally, but it has been applied  
to both very religious people and people who have  
done wonderful deeds to aid humankind. In this instance  
I have used the religious connotation.  
  
  
*[[Melodies I weave, songs I sweetly sing;  
longing for your presence, to you I yearn to cling.]]  
  
**[[In your shelter would my soul delight to dwell,  
to grasp your mystery, captured by your spell.]]  
  
***[[Whenever I speak of your glory so resplendent,  
my heart yearns deeply for your love transcendent.]]  
  
****[[Thus I glorify you in speech as in song,  
declaring with my love: to you I do belong]]   
  
(Excerpt from "Hymn of Glory," Hebrew text   
transliteration, author unknown)   
  
  
THANKS go out to:  
  
Antigone, Shana, April, and Psa-chan, who all preread   
for me and put up with my nonsense for so long. Thanks   
so much guys, you'll never know how much that meant   
to me. Special thanks to Antigone who provided most   
of the Japanese you'll see in this 'fic. She's been so   
awesome about it, and I am forever in her debt for it!   
Thanks girl, I owe you one. ^_^  
  
2nd round of beta readers were simply Lelu and Nienori.  
The first release of this fiction was done in June of 2000.  
The second and final release was done in May of 2002.  
I copyrighted the storyline at the former time and will be  
re-doing this story to take it out of SM fandom and get it  
published. Please don't even think about ripping this from  
me. I'm sure you're creative enough to come up with something  
on your own. :P  
  
Finally, to all who read this, I'm thanking you from the   
bottom of my heart. I don't care whether you decide to   
like it or not, tell me what you thought or not, I'm just   
grateful you took the time to read my small contribution   
to the wide world of Sailormoon Fanfiction.  
  
And now, I've taken up too much space and time,   
so I shall depart. I hoped you enjoyed this first part. . . . Ja ne!  
  
  
  
~Loralei  
  
  
  
Ah, yes. The song. . . .  
  
  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~@  
  
  
There's a lady who's sure all that glitters is gold   
and she's buying a Stairway to Heaven.  
When she gets there she knows if the stores are all closed  
with a word she can get what she came for.  
Ooh, ooh, and she's buying a Stairway to Heaven.  
  
  
There's a sign on the wall but she wants to be sure  
'cause you know sometimes words have two meanings.  
In a tree by the brook there's a songbird who sings,   
sometimes all of our thoughts are misgiven.  
Ooh, it makes me wonder,  
Ooh, it makes me wonder.  
  
There's a feeling I get when I look to the west,  
and my spirit is crying for leaving.  
In my thoughts I have seen rings of smoke through the trees,  
and the voices of those who stand looking.  
Ooh, it makes me wonder,  
Ooh, it really makes me wonder.  
  
And it's whispered that soon if we all call the tune  
then the piper will lead us to reason.  
And a new day will dawn for those who stand long  
and the forests will echo with laughter.  
  
If there's a bustle in your hedgerow don't be alarmed now,  
it's just a spring clean for the May Queen.  
  
Yes, there are two paths you can go by but in the long run  
there's still time to change the road you're on.  
  
And it makes me wonder.  
  
Your head is humming and it won't go in case you don't know,  
the piper's calling you to join him,  
Dear lady, can you hear the wind blow,  
and did you know your Stairway lies on the whispering wind.  
  
And as we wind down the road   
our shadows taller than our soul.  
There walks a lady we all know  
who shines white light and wants to show  
how ev'rything still turns to gold.   
  
And if you listen very hard  
the tune will come to you at last.  
When all are one and one is all  
to be a rock and not to roll.  
  
And she's buying a Stairway to Heaven.  
  
  
----all credit for these wonderful lyrics goes to Led Zepplin, a   
really awesome band, I claim no rights to them at all, only seek   
to share them with you, the readers. 


End file.
